​It’s So Good to Be Bad

The sun rose over the compound where we resided, casting a golden light over the pristine white furniture we all lounged on. A buzz of excitement ran through all of us as we thought about the coming days, ready to go out and “save the world” full of unassuming people. Those sheep. They all thought we did this out of the good of our hearts, like the emblems we on our bodies symbolized this somehow.

We knew different.

It had been set up a three years back, by the combined pushes we forced on our “evil” counterparts; together we showed them how important he was by saving him from orchestrated accidents, like nearly killing him by setting his mansion and parents on fire, after thwarting them again and again. They were ready to do the dirty work for us and supply another to either their league or ours, someone who could increase the waning interest of our fans -- the people whose lives we saved from death by “magic” or unfortunate accidents or even their own stupidity. The only real sacrifice was one person’s normal life. They may no longer be able to go shopping without a disguise or avoid ridiculous spandex outfits that rode up at the crotch, but they would be famous and able to do whatever they wanted so long as only what looked good was noticed. None of us hated any of that, although we mostly played on sympathy or excitement.

“I’m from a foreign planet.” Superman.

“I’m a science experiment.” Hulk.

“My family is all dead.” Most of us really.

There was some doubt amongst us on whether this was the right way to increase our numbers or if it was completely wrong to force such a life on others like the suggestion of radiation to that scientist. Despite all of the arguments, I knew what was best for the people of the world and if it was at the risk of a few people from the billions on the planet, so what? We could be the one’s the rectify anything that the “villains” did, those bumbling idiots who dressed in cheesy dark clothes and thought that breaking everything was the way to fix our problems. Swoop in, save the day, and take all of the credit for cleaning up the mess. The thoughts of all of us were cleared simply by thinking about the smiling men and women, the chances to have a very good night afterword.

“It’s almost eight,” noted a bored voice. None of us paid so much attention to another to tell who actually spoke and no one cared to find out.

It was as though a collective breath had been taken, broken when a lark flew into the wall of windows that we faced. The small thing left a faint smudge on the clear glass before it fell to the ground several stories down, dead. So sad.

Another voice spoke, the whining tone grating on our nerves. “Are you sure this is right?” he asked, “I’m all for staying important to the… sheep, but should we really do this?”

All of us turned to stare at him. His plaid shirt was wrinkled, the varying shades of purple a gross contrast violently red spandex exposed between the partially buttoned middle. Flash’s nervous shifting created a brushing, static sound against the fabric that further pulled at our mood.

“What did you say?” our looks seemed to tell him -- raised eyebrows paired with pursed lips.

“You don’t believe in us?” we wanted to hiss.

“We gave you this life,” our lips wanted to accuse, “and this is what you think?”

But we said nothing, did nothing, and turned away with unconcealed sneers growing on our faces. I reached for the remote to the fifty inch TV which marred the wall with it’s black color. Soon we were watching the news and waiting for his face to appear and learn of what condition our little Bruce was in.

Self Reflection:

The most difficult part of this POV is trying to get in detail without pulling out of the “we” form. Although I do pull out once (twice?), it is more for the sake of story than detail, although it does add more to it. Having the ability to change between the “we” and the “I” was a nice change from having to normally stay within the first or third person POVs. It really added the chance to play around with the difference between collective and singular thought (how the group could be saying one thing, but the “I” character could mean something a little different or expanded). Also, it was easier than third person omniscient because I didn’t have to be so weary with the transition because I was already part way inside this character’s head.

When I selected the superhero/supervillian POV for this, I thought that it would be a lot of fun to play around with how a collected “league” of heroes could actually be the bad guys. I only hint at it, but this was a lot of fun to write because of how their group perspective could be played around with. We don’t know real superheroes, so it gave a bit more freedom.

If I were to continue this, I might try and make sure that for plot purpose there is a completely established group because without doing that in here, I felt it left a bit more vagueness to the story. In all honesty, I would love to play around with this more and make it a bit longer -- it’s one of my favorite story starts I did this year.